Every Rose Has Its Thorn
by let's go bother snape
Summary: All she ever wanted was for someone to see past her appearance. Cashmere's beauty has always been more of a curse than a blessing- and when President Snow forces her to sell her body, she thinks she will find nothing but misery for the rest of her life. What she does find, however, is comfort in the most unexpected place. Based on the fairytale 'Beauty and the Beast'.
1. Part I

**Hey, hey! I finally got the chance to post this story (it was about time!) :D It's been hanging around in my folder for months, but it still needed to be proof-read. Sorry for the delay!**

**Anyway: this story will be split into three parts- I'll post the other two ASAP- and it will mention some of the characters from Water and Gold, since all my stories take place in the same, say... 'universe'.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

_"Yes, yes," said the Beast, "my heart is good, but still I am a monster."_

_"Among mankind," says Beauty, "there are many that deserve that name more than you, and I prefer you, just as you are, to those, who, under a human form, hide a treacherous, corrupt, and ungrateful heart."_

_- _Jeanne-Marie LePrince de Beaumont_, Beauty and the Beast_

* * *

I stand on my tiptoes as far as my high heels allow me, peeking over the thousands of heads that fill the square behind me; this year I managed to get a place on the front row, along with about twenty other 18-year-old girls, right in front of the stage. The usual glass balls have already been placed, and the mayor is giving his speech, but I'm not paying attention- I'm running my eyes through the 14-year-old boys' lineup, looking for someone in specific. I find him right away: the tips of his golden curls, so similar to mine, tower over most of the kids surrounding him, as he cheerfully chats with one of his friends- and I think I know just what he's talking about. He finally notices I'm staring at him, and amusingly sticks out his tongue.

I silently scold him with my gaze. _Don't you even think about it_, my eyes say.

Gloss just smirks and mimics a chicken, and I have to restrain myself from walking up to him and smacking him in the head, in order to shake some sense into it. He says that he's going to volunteer today, as if a fourteen-year-old has got a chance! Of course, what happened last year was an exception. Anyway, I know Gloss only says that to annoy me, because he thinks I will chicken out the moment Marcus Whitman, our escort, asks if there are any volunteers. _You're too much of a nerd, Cammie,_ he teased when I told him I wanted to volunteer this year- right before I kicked him off the couch. After that, he decided the safest way to bother me was to say he wanted to do the same.

My eyes drift away from my brother, and I realize that at least a dozen boys on the front rows are staring eagerly at me, while a couple of girls on my left eye me with envy. Just to annoy them, I flip my blonde hair over my shoulder and turn my attention back to Marcus, trying not to frown; I just wish people would stop staring.

"Ladies first!" Marcus announces as always, as he dives his hand into one of the balls and seizes a slip of paper. "Emerald Sparks!"

A dark-haired girl in an emerald green dress- how original- steps to the stage and joins Marcus, staring boringly at the audience with her dull brown eyes; I'd say she's not very thrilled with being reaped. "Now," says Marcus, smiling at the left side of the square, where the girls are standing. "Would any of the young ladies here like to volunteer?"

This is the moment to show I'm brave. Just like in the books.

"I do!" I practically shriek, and I have to control myself not to jump up and down. "I volunteer!"

I run to the stage, trying not to stumble on my stilettos, and stop next to a very surprised Emerald; she eyes me up and down, and somewhere in the crowd someone whistles. Suddenly, I wish I had picked a longer dress- and less tight, too, as Marcus gapes at me, seemingly forgetting what he's supposed to do.

Emerald is the first to recompose herself, turning to Marcus and clearing her throat. "Great, may I go now?"

"O-Of course," Marcus stammers. "Are there any more volunteers?"

Silence- I can see all the eyes in the square set on me, and I know that Gloss is probably either grumbling to himself that he lost his chance to be one of the youngest victors in history, or too stunned to do anything.

"Well then." Marcus picks up a microphone and shoves it right under my nose. "What's your name, dear?"

I gaze into his purple eyes with my blue ones, and give him my most dashing smile. "Cashmere," I say cheerfully. "Cashmere Mabel."

* * *

I'm so caught up on my reading that I don't notice them right away- I'm sitting against a tree, seizing a wonderful sunny day and the cool shadow the trees on our new garden offer me. I have to admit that moving to Victor Village was an improvement: at least here there are less people, and no one gives me strange looks for taking my books outside and lying on the grass with no shoes on.

Suddenly, however, I'm distracted by the sound of male voices talking- I look from behind the trunk, so I can see them without being seen, just as they reach the front door. There are two men- one is a Peacekeeper, while the other, in a shiny red suit, is undoubtedly from the Capitol; they get out of sight, and I presume someone has just let them in.

"Cashmere!" my mother hisses from the kitchen window. "Someone's here to see you!"

"Coming!" I hiss back, as I get up, still holding my book, and quietly walk to the back door; my bare feet almost don't make any noise against the grass. "Who is it?" I whisper, as soon as I step into the kitchen. "What do they want?"

"I don't know." My mother looks concerned, as she gently removes grass leaves from my hair and my dress. "Your father is talking to them, but they say they will only discuss whatever brought them here with you."

"I better not keep them waiting, then." I take a step toward the door that leads to the hall, but my mother stops me.

"Glasses!" she scolds. I smile at her and take off my gold-rimmed round glasses, tucking them in my back pocket; my mother is always warning me about them, and how they "hide my pretty face". She used to work as a model- something rare, even for someone from District 1- and is now retired and works as a jewelry designer, but she's still very picky about my appearance. And, even though she will never admit it, she's much more beautiful than I am.

"Good afternoon," I say politely as I step into the living room, making myself noticed. My father gets up from the couch and leaves without a word, his eyes filled with annoyance.

The man in the red suit bows slightly. "Good afternoon, Miss Mabel."

I smile at him. "May I ask who you are?"

"My name is Magnus Highmore," he says proudly, as if I should recognize that name. "I work for President Snow."

"And what brings you here?" I'm not able to hide the curiosity in my voice. "The Victory Tour is still five months away."

Magnus smiles condescendingly. "This is not about the Victory Tour. President Snow has requested your presence."

I blink. "When?"

"Immediately."

"But… I can't just leave to the Capitol now," I stammer. "I mean… I haven't packed my stuff!"

"We will make sure you are provided with anything you need." Magnus's tone is sympathetic, but allows no contestation. "Now, if you would please follow us…"

"How long will I be there?" I ask, realizing he still hasn't spoken about that.

"We don't know."

"Then I'll say goodbye to my family first," I say steadily, as I head to the door. "If you'll excuse me…"

Magnus just sighs and doesn't say anything- I'm already used to the attention the Capitol people have been giving me, especially after I won the 66th Hunger Games. I run upstairs and pack a bag with some personal objects- toothbrush, a picture of my family, a couple of novels, a comb- and rush back downstairs.

I kiss my mother on the cheek and after hugging my father and messing Gloss's hair, I follow Magnus and the Peacekeeper to the train station.

* * *

_He's repulsive._

That's practically all I can think of as President Coriolanus Snow sits behind his desk, with his static eyes scrutinizing every inch of me. I make an effort to smile pleasantly.

President Snow twists his puffy lips in a smile and tangles his fingers under his chin. "You were right, Magnus, she will do perfectly," he says, without tearing his gaze away from me.

I turn around on my chair, just as Magnus takes a bow and quietly leaves the office. I turn back to the president. "Will do for what?" I ask with curiosity.

President Snow doesn't answer right away, as he runs his fingers over a jar of roses he has on the desk. "Are you a virgin, my dear?" he asks lightly, exactly as he would if he was talking about the weather.

I almost choke. "Ex-Excuse me?"

"I asked if you are a virgin," he says, still focused on his roses.

"I… I… What?" I stammer, feeling my cheeks burn.

President Snow sets those horrible eyes on mine, making me feel like I'm shrinking. "I'm an awfully busy person, Miss Mabel, and you are making me waste my time. It's a simple question, and I'd be grateful to get a straight answer. So- yes or no?"

"No," I spit. "No, I'm not."

He gives me a venomous smile. "Excellent."

President Snow didn't say that like it is a good thing- he said that like I'm livestock- to make me feel insignificant and dirty. "Why did you ask that? What will happen to me?" I whisper.

"Oh, nothing you should worry about." President Snow waves his hand dismissingly. "You see, Miss Mabel, right now you're the most beautiful woman in Panem." He licks his lips and I have to try hard not to throw up. "And a lot of gentlemen are more than willing to pay good money to enjoy the pleasure of your… _company_. And I would like you to let them spend some time with you."

I cover my mouth. _Prostitution_. He's talking about prostitution. I'm not stupid.

"What if I refuse?" I ask shakily, with what little resolution I have left.

"Are you familiar with Mr. Abernathy's story?" he inquires. I shake my head; I know perfectly well who Haymitch Abernathy is- the drunkard victor from District 12, crowned sixteen years ago-, but I never paid much attention to him. "I thought so. Such a tragedy… you know, a few weeks after he did that little stunt with our force field, his family suffered an unfortunate accident. Poor boy… right when he was so happy he had won the Games." President Snow smiles, showing his pointy, stained teeth. "It would be a shame if the same happened to you, don't you think?"

I clench my fists. I can't let anything happen to my mother, my father, or- I swallow- Gloss. I just can't. "When do I start?" I mutter, unable to look him in the eye.

I hear the creaking sound of a chair, so I suppose President Snow has just leaned back. "As soon as you leave this office," he explains. "You were assigned to someone very special, due to your outstanding beauty. You should feel honored."

"Who?" I ask, fighting back a tear. I have to show him that I'm stronger than he thinks.

"My son."

My head darts up. "_Your son_?" I can't help but sound absolutely disgusted: President Snow's son is a man in his thirties, happily married to a beautiful woman- their wedding was as magnificent as the Games opening ceremony-, and father to an eight-year-old girl. But what kind of family man requests a prostitute that could almost be his daughter?

President Snow gets a file from his desk drawer and starts going through it. "Not the son you're thinking of," he says, sounding bored. "My other son, Cassius, doesn't leave the house very often. You'll be staying here with him."

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. "For how long?"

"Until the Victory Tour, or until he gets bored with you. Whatever happens first." President Snow shoots me a warning look. "You won't speak to _anyone_ about this, especially about Cassius. Understood?"

I nod, thinking about my family. "Perfectly."

He shows me his pointy teeth again, in a poor imitation of a fatherly smile. "Good." The president pushes a button behind his desk. "You can take her now, Magnus."

* * *

I don't pay attention as Magnus- who I now realize is some kind of butler- guides me along the labyrinthine halls of the president's mansion, while occasionally making some remarks about this painting or that statue. In a different situation, I would be asking him questions non-stop about these pieces of art, but right now I can't think of anything else but what awaits me.

I had never heard about this Cassius before: sure, President Snow might have had some lovers- _People like me_, I think with a twist of my stomach- along his life, but he only has one son, that I know of- born from the relationship with his deceased wife. _What does he look like? Will he try to treat me nicely? What if he's a psycho_? - These thoughts fill my head, as we reach a couple of white wooden doors.

"This is the Master's bedroom," Magnus informs me. "Yours is right across the hall, so you can get here easily, and you will be available twenty-four hours a day." I clench my teeth; I could kill Magnus more easily than a fly and then run away, but everyone I love would be dead by the time I reached District 1. "Now," Magnus adds, "you will get in there, do what you have to do and then leave, unless Master Cassius tells you otherwise." Magnus knocks, and without waiting for an answer, places his hand on the doorknob. However, before he spins it, he turns to me with the same look of warning I had seen on President Snow's eyes. "One last thing- you are not allowed, under any circumstances, to comment on the Master's appearance."

I just give him an icy stare; the Capitol's beauty standards are so weird that I'm prepared for anything. Then he opens the door, and pushes me inside the room.

It's almost too dark to discern anything, but those weeks in the arena have sharpened my senses, so I see it right away- crouched by the bed is what appears to be a huge wolf with spiky fur and its eyes gleaming in the dim light that comes from the hallway.

I don't scream- I just push Magnus aside, not to protect him but to have a wider action range, and pull out the knife I keep hidden in my dress, aiming it at the creature; but when I thrust my arm forward, my hand is empty.

"She's here, Master Cassius," Magnus says calmly, holding my knife. "I believe you will have to be careful with this one."

I scan the room, looking for the owner of the mutt on the carpet, but I don't see anyone. Magnus keeps his gaze on the creature, but there's not a hint of fear in his eyes.

"Alright, alright," says a raspy male voice. I freeze when I realize the words came from what I thought was a wolf, which is now getting up on its hind legs and walking towards me. "You can go away now, Magnus. You're just cockblocking."

Much to my pleasure, Magnus looks offended. "She had a knife, maybe we should…"

I gasp as a clawed, hairy hand clasps around my arm. "If she has anything else hidden inside that dress I will find out soon, don't you think?" Cassius snarls, as he pushes his servant out of the room.

"But, Master Cas-" Magnus starts, but Cassius-the-wolf slams the door on his nose.

Cassius waits until Magnus's steps can't be heard anymore to let go of my arm. "Old coot," he grumbles under his breath, as he returns to his original spot on the carpet. "Always interrupting my chess!"

I watch, fascinated, as Cassius finishes a game of chess against himself, seemingly unaware of my presence. _He's a lunatic!_, I think, unable to move. _And I'm supposed to have sex with him! _

"I'm Cassius," he says suddenly, startling me. "But you can call me Cas."

"Cashmere," I say, trying to sound relaxed, even though I'm holding my knees together to stop them from shaking. He still has his back turned to me, but at any moment he will get up, turn around and do whatever he wants to me- and I'll have to pretend I'm okay with that.

"I know who you are," Cassius climbs to his feet and then sits on the bed, staring at me. "My father sent you, didn't he?"

I purse my lips. Should I be undressing? I can see he's only wearing a pair of jeans, but he's sitting like he just wants to talk. "Yes, he did."

"That pervert." Cassius shakes his head and looks me in the eye; I can now see that among all that light brown fur that covers his face and his wolf-like features, Cassius's eyes are strikingly human, of a shade of sea-green, and what should be his lips are curled in a half-smile, showing his fangs. _Fangs! _"How old are you? Fifteen, sixteen?" he asks.

"Eighteen," I say, crossing my arms. Can't he just get this over with?

Cassius whistles, surprised. I was expecting him to howl. "You're getting older! Has Papa Snow decided to provide his _favorite_ son some real action? He usually sends little virgins."

I cringe. "I'm not…" I try to find the right words. "I'm not really _that_ experienced," I confess.

"No problem," he says cheerfully. Then, his pointy wolf ears start turning around frenetically, and Cassius grins mischievously. "Come here," he says excitedly. It's the last thing I want to do, but I walk up to him anyway, waiting for the worst. "Do you hear that?" Cassius asks. I shake my head; I don't have super-hearing like him. "Magnus's room is right under mine," he explains. "And he's in there."

Without another word, Cassius stands on his bed, and before I can ask him what he's doing, he starts jumping. I widen my eyes; he asked me how old I am, but how old is _he_? I thought he'd be much older than I am, but judging from his behavior and the messy appearance of the room around me, I'd say he's not much over twenty years old.

"What the hell was that?" I hiss, when Cassius grunts out of nowhere; I know I'm being rude, but I couldn't help myself- he's a complete nutjob.

"I don't want my father to think his money is not being well-spent," he pants, between jumps. "Now hop on!"

Absolutely stunned, I follow his order, and find myself jumping on a bed with President Snow's half-wolf son.

"Why are you doing this?" I ask, giggling. I can't help it- the whole situation is just too odd for me to keep a straight face.

"First of all, it's fun," he says, "And second of all, I take any chance I get to piss Magnus off."

"No, I mean-" I hesitate, "Why are you pretending we are… you know."

Cassius stops jumping, and I notice his ears have dropped a little. "I can't force you to do anything," he says. I open my mouth to tell him that indeed he can- in fact, his father made it very clear- but Cassius just raises his hand, stopping me. "I mean… I _can_, but I won't."

I blink, and the knot I had in my stomach loosens; I can't believe my luck. "Did you… did you do the same with all the others?" I ask. "With the…" I smile, "Jumping?"

"Well, yes," Cassius says, as if he's stating an obvious fact. "But the girls my father sends never join me. They are too frightened." He looks at me with curiosity. "But you didn't even blink when you pulled out that knife."

I shrug. "I was in the arena. It takes a lot more than a wolf-boy to scare me." I silently scold myself, realizing what I just said. "Sorry," I stammer.

Cassius just smiles; saying his appearance is bizarre would be a big understatement, but he's not nearly as disgusting as his father. "Don't worry, I've been called worse." He lays back on the bed, crossing his hands under his head, and looks at me from the corner of his eye. "So, how long will you be staying?"

"Until you get tired of me," I reply blankly. "I think I'm supposed to be your mistress. How long did the other girls stay?"

Cassius's ears drop once again. "I usually dismiss them after a week or so. Sometimes I send them away after one night, if they are particularly scared." He looks at me timidly. "I was hoping you could stay a little longer. My father obviously handpicked you, and… and… I don't think he would be very happy with us if I dismissed you right away. I promise I won't try anything," he assures me.

He seems so uncomfortable that I can't help but feel pity for him, something I never thought would happen with someone from the Capitol. But Cassius looks so sad… I decide to stay: not because he acted as a decent human being- although I'm thankful for that- but due to the fact I didn't see anyone in this part of the house, apart from Magnus and a couple of Avoxes; he's completely alone in here. Besides, the longer I stay here, the longer I will go without President Snow assigning me to a new- and probably less chivalrous – client.

So, with the image of Cassius playing chess by himself on my mind, I say, "Your father ordered me to stay until the Victory Tour, but… if you don't mind, I would like to see my family a little before that."

It was a very risky request, but Cassius instantly hops from his bed, his eyes gleaming and shaking his tail (how didn't I notice he has a tail before?). "That's nearly five months!" he exclaims. He starts muttering to himself, while he picks up dirty underwear from the floor and opens the curtains; night has fallen, and the moonlight is now shining through the windows. "Are you tired?" Cassius asks.

"Exhausted," I confess; the train ride from District 1, my conversation with President Snow, and my meeting with this strange boy have completely worn me out.

"I'll show you to your room." Cassius opens the door and steps to the hall, waiting for me; I follow him up to another pair of white wooden doors, identical to his. As I walk behind him, I get a chance to observe his back, which is as hairy as the rest of his body; I fight an urge to ask him how he got like this- it's obvious that his appearance is what keeps him indoors, but why doesn't he have plastic surgery? Surely that's the reason he looks like an animal. Can't he change back?

"Here you go," Cassius says, revealing a room, almost as big as his, all decorated in white and a lovely shade of baby-blue. "Thanks for staying."

I nod, and I want to thank him for not taking advantage of me; however, I just say "Good night."

Cassius smiles and I shut the door, feeling somewhat relieved.

* * *

When I wake up in the next morning, I find my breakfast set on the bedside table; one of the Avoxes must have brought it. I eat gladly, thankful for the fact that I won't have to leave my room just to get a meal, and risk running into Magnus- or worse, President Snow. Even though something tells me he doesn't visit his youngest son very often, there's no way to be sure about that.

I spend the entire day in my room, exploring each corner and pushing every button I can find, just to see what they do; I finish one of my novels by the time evening comes, and I stretch on the bed, waiting for Magnus to appear and tell me Cassius has requested my presence- however, the only person to enter the room is the Avox that brings me my dinner. I wait a couple more hours and then go to sleep.

The second day also goes like this; I finish my other book, but thankfully I find a pile of magazines to fill the rest of my time. Once again, the only person I see the whole day is another Avox.

On the third day, I begin wondering what would happen if I left my room and went exploring; I have nothing to do, and Cassius seems to have forgotten about me- it's not even like I'm trying to run away.

By late afternoon, I finally decide to have a look around; I peek into the hallway, and quietly shut the door behind me. I take about twenty steps forward before admitting to myself I have no idea where I'm going- the cream-coloured walls, the white doors, and the red carpet that covers the wooden floor all look the same, wherever I turn to; I even take a look upstairs and downstairs, but it's like looking into a mirror. I sigh when I realize I only know the way to Cassius's room- the only other door in this part of the hallway; I bet Magnus did it on purpose, so I would have nowhere to go except for "the Master's room".

I stare at the door for a moment before knocking, but the idea of spending more time in my room with absolutely nothing to do is just too awful, and ends up winning over any suspicion I may have left about Cassius. Besides, I think he's proven he's a quite unusual Capitol boy, in a good way.

"Who is it?" Cassius shouts from the inside.

"It's me," I reply, ignoring the annoyance in his voice. "Cashmere."

"Come in," he says in a different tone.

The first thing I see when I step into Cassius's room- which is looking much more pleasant, now that he's letting the sunshine in, and picked up his dirty clothes- is a dart whizzing past me and hitting the center of a target- or should I say, Magnus's nose, since Cassius has placed a picture over the target.

"Nice shot," I praise.

Cassius looks sheepish. "I know it's childish," he says, referring to the dart sticking out of Magnus's face.

"Not at all," I say lightly; I point to the darts he still hasn't used. "Do you mind?"

"Go ahead."

I pick up two darts and aim them at Magnus's eyes. "We'd have more fun if you had knives," I sigh, when I hit the spot.

"Now _that's_ twisted," Cassius says with a smile. I shoot him an amused look, as he sits down and signals me to do the same. "I wasn't expecting you to come so early."

"What do you mean? I thought I was supposed to come every day."

Cassius looks ashamed once again. "I… I wanted to give you some time to get used to your situation. Not forcing my company upon you, you see?"

I manage to crack a half-smile. "Didn't Magnus suspect anything?"

"Of course not," Cassius snorts, "He avoids my room like it's filled with the plague. Which is not as often as I'd like him to, unfortunately."

"Oh." Suddenly, I feel the urge to explain my presence here. "I had nothing to do, so I decided to drop by," I confess, as if "dropping by" is normal in this situation.

"You're bored?" Cassius ears dart up, and his eyes gleam. "Want to take a look around?" Without waiting for my answer, he hops from his chair and heads to the door.

I hesitate. "Are you sure it's okay?" After all, there's a reason why Magnus confined me to a room right next to Cassius's , without even needing to leave it to eat.

"Don't worry, you're with me."

I decide to give it a try and follow Cassius out of his room; he immediately begins moving swiftly along the halls, without hesitating once as he faces dozens of identical doors. Just like Magnus, he gives me a lecture about the artwork in display, but instead of describing it with unnecessary detail he just says if he likes it or not, and tells me how he once almost set a carpet on fire.

Cassius shows me the mansion's many rooms- most of them empty- and, much to my satisfaction, teaches me how not to get lost, using his favorite shortcuts. However, something's still nagging me.

"Won't we run into Magnus?" I ask, as Cassius guides me towards a door behind which comes a delicious smell.

"Nah," he says lightly, "He's either asleep or minding his own business. Thank goodness he doesn't wander around the house."

"What about…" I shiver. "What about your father? Should I be concerned that he might pop up at any moment?"

A shadow passes through Cassius's eyes. "My father only visits me once a month. That is, when he remembers to do so. I guess he just doesn't like to look at my face."

"I'm sorry," I say, meaning it. "I shouldn't have asked."

Cassius smiles. "You're not the one who should be sorry."

"So, uh…" I shouldn't insist on the matter, but if I'm going to live with Cassius for the next five months, I need to know what I can count with. "It's just you and Magnus?"

"Yep."

"Every day?" I ask, surprised. "You have no one else to talk to?"

"Well, no," Cassius says, as he opens the door and peeks inside. "I mean, there's the Avoxes, but they can't actually talk back, can they? Even if they could, they wouldn't want, or would be too scared to." He holds the door open for me, and I enter a kitchen almost as big as my room upstairs. "You hungry?" Cassius asks.

"Not really."

"Well, I am." Cassius heads to a huge fridge, as an Avox woman follows him with her eyes. "We came here to get strawberries and chocolate fondue," he explains playfully, turning to her. The woman lowers her eyes, seemingly pretending she hasn't heard or seen anything; I observe her, and my hatred for the Capitol and President Snow grows- what kind of president tortures his own people? What kind of father locks his son away?

"Alright, we're good to go," Cassius says, leading me out of the kitchen while holding a small bucket.

"That's not fondue," I whisper.

"She didn't need to know that. Besides, we're supposed to be upstairs doing the dirtiest things we can come up with," he jokes.

I laugh at his bluntness. "Couldn't we just have ordered that…" I glance at the label around the bucket. "Chocolate ice cream?"

"It's easier this way," Cassius replies mysteriously.

"What do you mean?"

"We're not going back to my room." He stops on his tracks and turns to me. "I want to show you something." Cassius fetches a key from his back pocket and approaches a door with delicate patterns carved all over the frame. "The presidents that came before my father had them destroyed, but kept one of each," he explains.

"One of what?"

Cassius doesn't reply, and just opens the door. "After you," he says, holding it for me. I walk past him and step inside the room.

I take a look around and freeze.

It's a library- about ten times as big as my room, and twice as tall, with books covering every inch of the walls; the windows almost go up to the ceiling, and through them I can see a beautiful garden. However, I'm still more focused on what's inside; I circle around the room, reading the titles and authors on the bindings- words that I had never heard of- and mentally calculating how much time it would take me just to read the books on the bottom shelf.

"Do you like it?" Cassius asks insecurely.

"Love it," I whisper, as I take _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_ from the shelf. "How did you know I like to read?" I ask, turning to him.

"I guessed," he says mischievously. "Maybe an extremely nosy Avox had something to do with it, but I swear it wasn't my intention to ask him about you."

I smile. "Thank you. So, do you come here often?"

"Almost every day. It's my favorite place in the house."

"Really?" I ask, surprised.

"Yeah… of course, any book is better with this." Cassius holds out the bucket. "Ice cream?"

I laugh. "Sure."

* * *

"You're doing it again."

"Doing what?"

"Squinting."

I sigh. "Just focus on your book. That way you won't see me squinting."

We've spent all our afternoons for the past weeks in the library, making a contest to see who can read faster. It's always the same routine: I get up, knock on Cassius's door and then we do whatever we please for the rest of the day- most likely we hide here- and at night, we always make sure Magnus doesn't get any sleep by jumping on the bed or the floor. And, much to my surprise, we've become friends- I think the fact we're both prisoners somehow helped.

Cassius puts down whatever book he's reading right now and crosses his arms. "Where are your glasses?"

I flip a page. "I don't know what you're talking about," I say, not tearing my gaze from _The Phantom of the Opera._

"Yes you do," he accuses. "My mother had them too, and she did the exact same face when she tried to read without them."

"I don't want to put them on."

"Why not?"

"_Because,_" I reply defiantly.

"That's not an answer."

"Yes it is."

"Do it, or I'll hide your books," Cassius threatens.

"You wouldn't dare," I snicker.

"My library, my rules."

"Alright, you win," I sigh, taking my glasses from my pocket and putting them on. "Happy now?"

Cassius stares deeply into my eyes and smiles; I cross my arms and try to look menacing. "You should see your face right now!" he laughs.

I snort, annoyed. "Seems like my mother was right."

"What?" he asks, confused.

"She says I look ugly with glasses. Not by these exact words, but it is implied."

Cassius looks at me for a moment. "She's wrong. I've seen a lot of ugly things in my life." He pauses, giving me the impression that he's talking about himself. "And I guarantee you that your glasses are _not_ one of them." When I don't say anything, he adds, "You look beautiful."

For the first time, I feel like that compliment really has a meaning.

* * *

Cassius opens the door as soon as I knock. He looks miserable, and I don't blame him- he's about to lose the only friend he's had for God knows how long. I must admit I don't feel very happy myself- the Victory Tour starts next week, but what will happen to me after that? What kind of people will I be sent to?

"Listen, I-" I start, but my voice trails off. Should I tell Cassius I'll miss him? _Will_ I miss him? Strangely, I will.

"How much time do we have left?" he asks.

"An hour."

Cassius nods, resignation showing upon his face. "Come with me," he says, taking my hand. I just let my fingers slide inside his, not minding the strangeness of the hair that covers them, and follow him as he leads me to a part of the house I've never been to. From the quietness that goes upon him and the way he takes a cautious step after another, I'd say this is his father's territory. I feel a chill up my spine- this mansion couldn't be more different from the swamp that still haunts my dreams, but somehow the feeling is the same- and unconsciously tighten my grip on Cassius's hand.

"It's okay," he whispers. "I just wanna show you something."

He opens an opaque glass door to our right, and I find myself in a greenhouse, surrounded by roses of all colours, from black to bright orange- some of them are so small they could be mistaken for forget-me-nots, and others are the size of lettuce. The smell is not completely unpleasant, but it's too strong, even for a place with so many flowers.

"Is this yours?" I ask, running my fingers along the petals of a particularly funny-looking, polka-dotted rose.

"Technically, it's my father's." Cassius drags me further inside the greenhouse, until we can't see the door anymore. "But I'm the one who takes care of it. He doesn't have much spare time."

"Oh," I manage to say. Cassius lets go of my hand and approaches a rosebush that is so withered in comparison to the others that I wouldn't have noticed it if he hadn't pointed it out- on it lays a single red blossom.

"This one's my favorite," Cassius confesses.

"Why?" I ask. The rose is not any different from the others- actually, it looks kind of plain. A normal rose.

"Because it's not genetically modified." Carefully, he plucks the flower and holds it out for me to take it. "It's unaltered… like you."

I inspire the delicate, natural scent of the rose- he's right, it's actually better than the others- before gathering the courage to ask what has been nagging my mind since the first time I saw him. "Cassius… how… how did you get like that?"

He doesn't even blink; he just runs his hand through his hair- the hair on top of his head, that is- and cracks up a half-smile. "I knew you'd ask sooner or later."

"I'm sorry," I say, embarrassed.

"No problem. It's actually a rather simple story- you know how everyone's obsessed with plastic surgery in the Capitol, right?" I nod. "Well, I started when I was fourteen. A little retouch here and there, dying my hair, nothing special. But I wanted to go the extra mile, so when I was sixteen, I heard about a new procedure that would allow me to have dog-like senses… I wanted to do it right away. They told me it wasn't safe, and that it hadn't been fully tested, but I was so vain that I didn't listen." Cassius sighs and goes on. "When I came back from the hospital looking like _this, _my mother almost had a stroke. And my father locked me here. Having a freak for a son could endanger his political career. So here I am, locked for six years!" His last sentence is too cheerful for me to believe he's actually happy this way.

"Can't you… reverse the procedure?" I ask, half-fascinated.

"Recently they've came up with some kind of therapy," Cassius explains. "They say it will bring me back to normal, but it will be painful and will take years… and no one can guarantee me that I'll be allowed out once I've changed back. It would be strange if another son of the president just popped out of nowhere. Most likely, I'll be trapped here forever."

"That's just insane!" I exclaim indignantly. "Where's your brother in all this?"

"I think he's just as afraid of our father as the next person," Cassius replies bitterly. "And he has his own family. He still visits me sometimes, though."

"And didn't anyone notice you were gone? Your friends? Society in general?"

"My father came up with a story, that I was very sick… after a while, people just forgot about me. And I didn't have friends. At least not _true_ friends." He smiles. "Until now."

I beam, looking into his glinting green eyes and trying to find the normal-looking boy he once was. "What did you look like?" I blurt out.

"Jeez, you sure do love to ask questions!" he laughs. "But I'll show you."

Cassius takes me back to his room, and once we get there he begins raiding through his drawers. I stand in silence, overcome with curiosity, until he turns back to me, holding a small piece of paper. He hands it to me, and I take the photo closer to the light so I can see it better: pre- surgery Cassius wasn't actually that different from what he is now- the same expressive eyes, the same smile… he looked quite normal for a Capitol boy, with short light brown hair and nice features. He still wore a bit of make-up, though.

"Cute," I chuckle.

"Yeah, I was quite a good-looking lad, wasn't I? A true chick-magnet!" Cassius jokes.

"You _are_ a good-looking lad. But maybe you should shave more often," I scorn.

"Miss Mabel?" Magnus's voice floats through the corridor outside the room, telling me it's time to go.

"Will I see you again?" Cassius asks hurtfully.

"I don't think that's up to me," I say.

"Well, then… see you some day. Goodbye, Cashmere." Before I manage to reply, Cassius leans forward and presses his lips against mine.

I'm not going to lie and say this doesn't feel weird- it definitely does, given the amount of facial hair- but it doesn't feel bad either. I feel myself flush, and my heart starts racing like I'm fourteen again, in love for the first time…

_Oh._

Cassius is the one who breaks the kiss, taking a step back with an ashamed look upon his face. I touch his cheek, as if telling him 'it's okay', just as Magnus knocks on the door.

"Goodbye, Cassius."

Then I turn around, casting him one last glance, and head out of his room, still clutching the rose he gave me and the picture I forgot to return.


	2. Part II

**Here's Part II- I'm sorry it took so long!**

* * *

I can only describe the Victory Tour as a blur- made of tight, tighter and the tightest dresses (if we could actually call them that) and an ever-changing environment. I try to ignore the pain and the hatred in the eyes that watch me from the squares of the districts that didn't see their children come home because of me, even though the hungry stares I get from Marcus every now and then aren't much better; just the thought of working with him for the next God knows how many years is enough to make me want to throw up.

At least Caesar Flickerman is a lot more chivalrous and can actually maintain eye contact while interviewing me, with no need to remind him that "eyes are up here"- but he's a professional, and he's in his fifties, so that's expected, right?

Cassius, on the other hand, had plenty of opportunities to take advantage of me, and the only thing he did was kissing me- after five months.

I need to give myself a mental shake to stop thinking about him, as I step into the mansion's main ballroom for the Victor's party, while dozens of men inside gape at me eagerly, taking in my ridiculously puffy, hot pink, jewel-covered ball gown that makes me look like one of those dolls our ancestors had. It's needless to say I have never been to this part of the house, much less with any company other than Cassius.

A man in a pink wig that puts my dress to shame walks up to me and interrupts my thoughts. "May I have this dance?" he asks politely, though with a hint of dominance.

"Sure," I reply blankly. What else am I supposed to say? If I refuse any of these rich freaks, President Snow will make sure my family suffers the consequences. The man spins me around the room a bit unsteadily for about three minutes, before pulling me closer in a really unpleasant way and whispering in my ear with a breath that stinks of wine, "I love it when pretty girls win the Games."

I manage to give him a half-smile that hides my repulse before being "rescued" by another man, this one blue-skinned and owner of a pretty impressive pair of golden horns. He introduces himself and then talks incessantly for the four minutes that our dance lasts, but I don't hear a word, choosing to nod and smile instead, but he doesn't even notice; it always works- these men don't actually expect a pretty girl to be smart enough to join their conversations, even one who's proven to be otherwise.

"And so they said, _Your cupcake is stuck in your horn!_ I have no idea how it got there!" My partner bursts out laughing at his own story, and I join him, pretending I actually care about his cupcake-stabbing horns. However, my attention is actually driven to said horns- surely they are more bizarre than Cassius's condition! Why is this blue bull allowed out and he is not? "Excuse me if I sound cheeky," he suddenly says, once the dance is over. "But would you consider visiting my place after the party?"

"I don't know if I can," I say in a sweetly disappointed voice. "My schedule is really tight. I'm sorry."

_Terribly sorry you're not taking me for free,_ I think sarcastically.

"Oh." A look of understanding goes through Mr. Horny's eyes. "I see. I'm sure we can work something out."

He retreats to the corner of the room so he can speak to someone I don't manage to see, since he is quickly replaced by another of my potential clients. I don't know if I should cry, scream, or laugh hysterically at the thought of ending up in bed with one of these… _things._

Finally, after I've danced with half the people in the room- the other half being women who are pretending not to see their husbands chasing after me like a pack of hungry dogs- I'm allowed to take a rest. Just as I'm approaching the drinks- maybe if I get _really_ drunk I won't be able to remember anything tomorrow-, a familiar voice makes me stop.

"You have made quite an impact tonight, Miss Mabel. I confess I wasn't expecting you to cooperate so easily."

I turn around so I can face President Snow, who's smiling at me, while holding two cups with a bright blue drink inside. "Well, I do care about my family," I say blankly, as he hands me one of the cups.

"I wouldn't expect it to be otherwise. But you are a surprisingly good actress- if I didn't know better, I'd say you are truly enjoying yourself."

"So, which one gave the biggest offer?" I ask, deciding to cut right to the point. I gesture with my cup, embracing the men scattered over the room. "Which one will have the… pleasure of my company?"

"None, actually," President Snow replies casually, before setting his snake eyes on mine.

"Excuse me? Then why-"

"Don't worry, they will have their opportunity. But for now, you will be keeping my son company for a little longer."

"Oh," I say tonelessly, as if that's the worst thing that could happen to me. But in reality, my heart has started to beat loudly against my pink dress, and all I can think about is how lucky I am to see Cassius again.

"It will only be for a while," the president says with a sly smile upon those awful lips. "I can't afford to keep you off the- pardon me the expression- _market _for too long. I don't know what you did to my son, but he requested your presence again, and he had never done that."

_Of course you don't know. It's not like you even realize all he needs is a friend._

I give him my supermodel smile, the one my mother taught me. "I feel honored."

* * *

To say Cassius is happy that I'm back would be an understatement- he's shaking his tail so much that he actually knocks over some of the objects he has on his bedside table. Without hesitating, I rush to him and give him a tight hug, ignoring the awkwardness caused by the last time we saw each other.

"Welcome back," he whispers against the top of my head.

"How in the world did your father agree to let me return?" I ask.

"Well," Cassius rubs the back of his neck and stares down at me. "He actually asked if I had been satisfied with his… _gift,_" The disgust he imprints in the word makes me like him even more. "Since I didn't send you away for five whole months. So I told him what he wanted to hear- that you were wonderfully submissive and a great distraction." Cassius rolls his eyes. "And then I said I would like to see you again, and he agreed immediately. I have no idea why."

I chuckle. "He probably thinks I find you to be disgusting, and a pervert, so he will agree to pretty much anything that might make me upset."

"Poor old man," Cassius says sarcastically, shaking his head. "That just proves he doesn't know me at all."

"Well, it's his loss," I snort.

Cassius shoots me an amusing look. "Do you always say everything that goes through your mind?"

"Most times." I shrug. "I just can't help it. But…" My voice trails off, as I realize I'm thinking of that kiss, and how none of us has mentioned it- like it has never happened. "But I still know when to shut up," I finish.

"Look," Cassius starts after an awkward silence, as if he has read my thoughts. "One of the reasons why I wanted you to come back was so I could have an opportunity to apologize. I shouldn't have kissed you- it was arrogant of me."

I take his hand reassuringly. "It's okay," I whisper.

"No, it's not," Cassius says hurtfully. "I don't want to mess up our friendship. We shouldn't even be friends- what will happen when my father starts sending you to other men?" I flinch, and he quickly adds "I'm sorry! I shouldn't be talking about this."

"Avoiding the subject won't change anything," I say. "And no matter how many men I'm forced to sleep with, there's something that will never change."

Cassius gapes at me. "What?"

"This."

I take a step forward, eliminating the distance between us, and crane my neck so I can cover Cassius's lips with mine. And this time, Magnus does not interrupt us.

* * *

"Cas?" I call through the door, not getting an answer. "Cas, are you in there?" Silence. Maybe he's asleep. "I'm going down to the library, would you want me to bring you something?" Once again, he doesn't reply, so I open the door and peek inside. The room looks exactly the same as it always does, except Cassius isn't there.

_That's odd._

I quietly shut the door behind me and set off walking towards the stairs, intended on going to the library on my own. I'm not worried- maybe Cassius decided his roses needed to be tended, or he got hungry and is now raiding through the fridge.

Once at the library, I wander around the shelves, pulling out any books I might find interesting, and a couple more for Cassius; when I look down, I feel a smile spreading across my face- I have unconsciously picked exclusively sappy romance novels to myself- something I used to avoid-, like they're a reminder of how ridiculously happy I have been for the past three months. Cassius and I have been inseparable since that second kiss, and although he's chosen to take it slow- like he always does, come to think of it- I feel like I've been walking on clouds.

Of course, things would be much easier if he wasn't President Snow's son.

I return to the hallway and try to fulfill the difficult task that is holding the stack of books, which threaten to attack my bare toes at any moment, as I walk silently on the thick carpet. I think about stopping by the greenhouse after dropping the books in my room, but I don't dare to go into that part of the house without Cassius's company.

Suddenly, I freeze on my tracks.

I don't know what it is- a change in the air, a subtle noise, the hair on the back of my neck going up-, but something tells me I'm being watched. I quickly look behind, my heart racing- this house is _definitely _turning into an arena-, but no one's there. I still get the feeling someone is staring at me, so I look over the pile of tomes I'm holding in my arms.

At first, I mistake her for a doll, due to her excessively colorful attire and her uncanny stillness, but I promptly shake away that possibility, thinking I have been reading too many horror stories.

The little girl blinks her big blue eyes once and keeps observing me, until I am no longer comfortable with the situation- who is she? How did she get here?

"Hm, hello?" I say tentatively, even though I'm kind of freaked out by this child, and probably shouldn't be speaking to her. She doesn't reply. "Are you lost?" I ask.

Once again, the little girl doesn't reply. She's about seven or eight years old, with raven black hair, red lips and a spookily white skin; she's also a little plump, like Capitol- and even District 1- children sometimes are. But what actually terrifies me in this likely harmless little girl is the eyes- there's something in the way she stares at me, barely blinking, that makes me want to run away.

But then she smiles, slightly flushed, and that frightening effect disappears for a moment, as she opens her mouth to speak. She never gets the chance to, though, because on that moment a woman's voice echoes through the hall.

"Allie! Allie, where are you?"

The little girl's smile drops, and she gives me one more inquiring look before turning around and running towards her mother's voice. I stand there for a moment without moving, wondering what the hell that was all about, before the reason I was so scared by an eight-year-old girl finally strikes me.

Those scrutinizing eyes look exactly like President Snow's.

* * *

Cassius stumbles into my room loudly without knocking, a look of complete horror on his face, as he gapes at me with his eyes wide and drops of sweat forming on his forehead ; he stands in front of me, panting, and shakes his head vigorously, as if to make something go away.

I instantly get up and walk up to him, intrigued. "Cashmere," he finally gasps. "Did you speak to _anyone_ while I was absent?"

"Why? Where did you go?" I ask.

Cassius seizes my arms desperately. "This is important!" he almost shouts. "Did you or did you not speak to someone?"

I feel a chill down my spine. "The little girl," I whisper, almost not moving my lips. "I asked her if she was lost."

"Allie," he stutters, almost as if he doesn't believe it. "My niece."

"Your niece? What was she doing here?"

Cassius starts biting his nails nervously. "My brother decided to drop by without warning for a family dinner," he explains. "Actually, he must have warned my father, but he only bothered to tell me to put a suit on when my brother was already on his way."

"That doesn't explain why she was here!" I exclaim. "And what exactly is the problem?"

"Well, you know how children are… while we were busy talking about what Allie calls 'grown-up things', she decided to explore the house… I never thought she would come _here._" The panic in Cassius's eyes is growing bigger by the minute. "And when she came back, she asked me who the 'pretty lady' was." I smile, temporarily forgetting about the seriousness of the matter. "Right in front of my father," Cassius finishes.

My heart drops.

"What did he say?!" I ask, suddenly invaded by dread.

"He didn't say anything, but I know that he's angry. I'm sure he's not concerned about little Allie speaking about you to all her friends- she knows she has to keep her mouth shut about anything that has to do with me-, but how does one explain that…" he stops mid-sentence, looking embarrassed.

"But how does one explain the presence of a prostitute wandering around the house to an eight-year-old?" I finish for him. "Do you think he will punish my family?" I ask, now on the verge of tears.

"I don't know," Cassius replies wearily. "I sincerely hope he doesn't."

* * *

"Gloss Mabel!"

I watch from my assigned chair as my brother- my little brother, with his baby blue eyes and golden curls that I used to kiss at night before he decided he was too old for that- climbs to the stage, showing off to the girls on the front row and immediately dismissing Marcus's usual demand for volunteers.

I want to scream. I want to jump from the back of the stage, where I am forced to stand since I am being given the honor of mentoring this year, and push Gloss back into that crowd, so that the Capitol- President Snow- doesn't set their eyes on him. I want to tell them this is not fair, that he's too young and that he's only been chosen due to my own stupidity- for this was not an accident.

* * *

He says he's going to win.

He says the odds are in his favor, that the fact he's only fifteen doesn't matter- 'I have my big sister to mentor me', are his exact words. The Capitol loves him, their little Career angel, and I don't dare to spoil his happiness. I can't bring myself to tell him there's a boy from District 2 twice as wide as him, or that the girl from Four can strangle him in seconds, or what awaits him if he happens to win. I just smile at the cameras and give Gloss every last piece of advice I have.

When he's thrown into that awful mountain top, I go without sleeping for days, gathering sponsors to ensure the survival of my naïve brother.

One night, I almost fall asleep alone by the phone at the Games Headquarters, as I wait for it to ring- _someone_ must be willing to sponsor Gloss! He's in the top eight, and he even managed to injure the District 2 boy; but I still don't dare to voice my hope that he will actually come out alive.

I'm only slightly aware of my surroundings, wondering if Cassius is watching my brother fighting for his own life (he probably is, even though he doesn't like the Games- he holds a special hatred towards the arenas themselves, since they remind him of his own imprisonment) when someone quietly taps my shoulder; I jump on my chair and my glasses almost slide off my nose, as I stare at the face that fulfills the dreams of ninety-nine percent of the Capitol women.

Finnick Odair gives me a flirtatious smile that I don't return- he's _sixteen_, only a year older than Gloss, and mostly because my heart is taken- but it quickly turns into a look of concern when he sees my face. "Coffee?" he offers, holding out a cup. "You look like you might need it."

"Yes, thank you." I take the cup, adding a sugar cube Finnick got out of nowhere, and take a sip.

"You should get some rest, you know," he says.

I rub my eyes behind my glasses and let out a loud yawn, not caring if I'm in front of Panem's current male sex symbol by the smallest bit (whether I like it or not, I'm the female one anyway). He's just a boy. "I can't," I say sleepily. "I need to get sponsors for my brother."

"And you think they will be willing to deal with a messy-haired, round-spectacled zombie?" I shoot him a dirty look. "Oh, come on, Four-Eyes," Finnick says amusingly. "You and I know better than anyone else the effect that a pretty face has around here."

"Tell me about it," I snort, taking another sip of the coffee.

"Anyway, and not that I appreciate the kind," Finnick continues, "I hope you realize your brother has the same advantage you and I had. I'm sure he'll get sponsors sooner or later."

Almost as if it had heard him, the phone rings, startling me. I practically dive for it so I can pick it up quicker. "Hello?" I say, trying not to sound desperate. A glance in Finnick's direction shows me he's raised his eyebrows amusingly. He mouths _Told you so_ before leaving, chewing another sugar cube noisily.

I turn my attention back on the phone; the voice on the other side is slightly familiar, but I can't place it. Or maybe it's just my mind playing tricks on me thanks to the lack of sleep.

"Excuse me if this is a bad time," the voice says. "But I'm calling because I want to sponsor Gloss Mabel from District 1."

* * *

Gloss wins, much to my joy and relief. He gets his own house in Victor Village, and my parents move in with him, leaving me free to choose to live with them or remain in the house next door; I decide I'm old enough to live by myself, not that it makes any difference, since I spend most of my time in the Capitol anyway.

I dread the moment someone will come to Gloss's house and tell him he has to sell his own body to ensure his family's safety, but as the months go by he doesn't get any unpleasant visits, at least that I am aware of. He's only fifteen, after all, so maybe President Snow finds him to be too young; however, there has been some buzzing about Finnick Odair and his "lovers" lately, so I know it is only a matter of time before my brother shares our fate.

I start getting sent to other clients- perverted old men- old enough to be my grandfather-, inexperienced boys that seem to have just left puberty behind, and all sorts of men in-between. After a while, I just tune out and try to pretend it's happening to someone else. Other times, I imagine I'm back at the president's mansion, reading books with Cassius by the fireplace.

My exile finally comes to an end when a bright red convertible pulls over by the busiest Capitol shoe shop, just as I'm leaving with my arms full of bags (at first I was surprised when my… _suitors _began offering me things, but Finnick quickly assured me that's normal of them, so I might as well take advantage of it). The man inside is wearing a suit with the exact same shade as the car, so I don't even have to look at his face to recognize Magnus.

"Miss Mabel," he calls.

"Oh, hello Magnus," I greet politely, realizing with horror that I'm already developing a Capitol accent. I put my sunglasses on my head so I can see him better. "What brings you here?"

Magnus opens the door closer to the sidewalk. "I'm here to pick you up."

I practically run to the car, almost dropping my bags in the process- I never thought I'd ever be happy to see Magnus. Is it true? Am I finally welcome at the president's mansion again?

He gets out of the car and I hand him the bags that contain what I call "shallow shopping items"- clothes, shoes, hats, make-up-, choosing to keep the bookstore ones with me, as I get down on the passenger seat.

The ride to the mansion takes less than five minutes- we could perfectly have walked there-, and the whole time Magnus is barking at his microscopic cell phone. Suddenly, something gets my attention- not the boring conversation he's having, but his voice, and the way he talks with whoever is listening; my lips twist into a smile when I recognize it.

* * *

The first thing I do when I see Cassius is fling myself into his arms and hold him tightly, refusing to let go. "Ha. I knew the old man would come to his senses," he says.

I laugh against his chest. "What did you do?" I ask.

"Honestly? I wandered around the house, screaming I had nothing to do, until neither he nor Magnus could take it anymore."

"You're so manipulative." I pull back a little and look up with half-lidded eyes. "Is that also how you got Magnus to make those phone calls?"

Under all that hair, I can see Cassius's face turn red. "I don't know what you mean," he says casually.

"Don't play games with me!" I exclaim, smiling. "I know it was you! You sponsored Gloss!"

"It's no big deal," Cassius whispers insecurely.

"_No big deal_? You saved his life! I almost cried when he got that parachute with the matches and the knife." I squeeze Cassius's hand. "I can't thank you enough. I'll be forever in your debt."

Cassius places his hands on my shoulders. "You don't owe me anything. It was the least I could do, especially given that I should have warned you my family was visiting. If I had done that, maybe your brother wouldn't have gotten picked."

"You had no way to know," I point out.

"But still… And that wasn't the main reason why I wanted to help him. My reasons were utterly selfish."

I smile. "Why did you do it, then?"

"Because I love you, isn't it obvious?"

The second the words come out of Cassius's mouth, I know that I love him back. I simply cannot see myself with anyone else. "Even with all the men I'm forced to sleep with?" I ask faintly.

He leans his forehead against mine and smiles. "What men?"

I just kiss him in response, and when he scoops me up and carries me to his bed, after giving me an inquiring look. I don't have to pretend it's exactly what I want him to do- because it is.

* * *

Cassius wakes me up the next morning by brushing his lips against my forehead, causing a funny sensation on my skin due to all the facial hair. "That tickles," I say, still half-asleep.

"Sorry." He tries to pull away, but I drag myself closer to him, still without opening my eyes.

"I didn't say it wasn't okay." I open one of my eyes to find Cassius staring at me with curiosity. "What? Do I have drool on my face?"

"No, I was just wondering… Why me?"

"Uh? Cas, I just woke up, I don't feel like thinking right now. Please explain yourself."

"You could have had anyone," he explains. "But you're with me- a lab experience gone wrong. Why?"

I get up on one elbow so I can see him better. "All my life, I've been defined by my looks," I say sincerely. "So I made a habit of _not _judging people based on their appearance. I try to see… let's call it their soul. Does it make any sense?"

"I guess." Cassius raises his eyebrows. "What does my soul say about me, then?"

"Let me see…" I smile. "It says that you're curious, passionate and a little insecure. And different, but in a good way." Cassius caresses my cheek and my smile grows wider. "Oh, and it also says that you enjoy having deep, philosophical conversations after a night of love-making. I can't imagine why." I rest my chin on his chest. "Now it's your turn."

"Well, you're…" Cassius frowns, as if thinking hard. "Pretty."

For a moment, my blood freezes, but then I see his playful smile and pout mockingly. "Is that all?" I ask, feigning hurt.

"No… You're also a book-worm, adorably nosy, flirty, and either in a desperate need of new glasses or extremely fond of hairy guys. I'd go for the glasses."

I tilt my head back, laughing. "I wouldn't be so sure about that."

"Are you telling me you would mind it if I actually looked like a normal human being?"

I squeeze his hand. "I don't care what you look like, as long as you're happy."

Cassius cracks up an apprehensive half-grin. "So… I guess this is a bad time to tell you I've decided to go through treatment."

I sit up so suddenly that I almost rip the covers off him. "What?!" I exclaim. "You can't do that! You said it was painful!"

"I don't care," he says calmly. "I'm doing it anyway."

"But…" I drop my shoulders in defeat. "At least tell me you're not doing it because of me."

"I'm not," Cassius assures me. "This is what I've always wanted- it's my ticket out of here. But I didn't have the courage to go forward with it until you came along and actually gave me a stronger reason to do it."

"So it _is_ because of me."

"Only partly." Cassius sits up as well and hugs me tightly. "Just imagine what it will be like if I'm finally allowed out- we can start a new life!" He looks at me pleadingly. "So, are you with me?"

I sling my arms around his neck. "I think you already know the answer for that."

* * *

Gloss and I are both assigned mentors the year he turns seventeen, and even though I'm constantly worried that he might be called to President's Snow office, his cheerful behavior never falters, so I guess he's been lucky. He even manages to turn Finnick into his partner in crime- much to my annoyance, since I'm forced to work with both, now that the tributes we're coaching have formed an alliance.

"I say that girl from Seven is trouble," I insist, as the screen shows a brown-eyed girl being chased by the Career pack, with a slightly exaggerated look of panic upon her face.

"Relax, sis," Gloss says lightly. "They have it under control." He turns his attention back to Finnick, who is playing cards with him. "Go fish."

"I thought we were playing poker," Finnick laughs, eyeing the pile of sugar cubes that serve as poker chips longingly.

"We are, but I never get tired of making District 4 puns."

"Makes sense."

I drop my face in my hands and let out a frustrated groan. "Would you _please_ pay attention? We're supposed to be getting sponsors for those kids!"

"I received a couple of calls just an hour ago," Gloss informs me, before raising his eyes from his game and frowning at me. "Jeez Cammie, would you calm down? You've been acting really strange lately!"

I turn my back to Gloss and refuse to keep talking to him, even though I can feel Finnick's gaze on the back of my head. Of course, he knows why I have been acting "strange"- unlike Gloss, who is completely oblivious of what I do when I stay away from home for months in a row.

After a while, I hear Gloss put down his cards. "Well, gotta go," he says calmly. "I have an appointment with President Snow- important stuff, you see? Later."

I almost knock down my chair from spinning on it so quickly, but Gloss is already leaving through the door, while Finnick gives me a pitiful look.

* * *

When Gloss finally comes back to the first floor of the Training Center- well past midnight-, there's no sign of the carefree, almost too-happy-for-his-own-good boy I was with earlier. He just bursts into the living room with his skin white as paper, wild-eyed and with a hickey the size of my fist on his neck; he doesn't say anything: he just sinks next to me on the couch where I had been unsuccessfully trying to get some sleep until he came back, and covers his face with his hands.

They've broken him. _My little brother_.

"Gloss?" I say softly, putting my arm around him. I know he won't cry- he's too proud for that. But I can feel he's pretty close to it.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Gloss asks shakily, with his face still buried in his hands.

"I couldn't," I answer sincerely. "They would kill our family."

"But you could have told me when I became a victor!"

"I didn't want to scare you." I look down, ashamed. "I know it was stupid. I'm so sorry, Gloss."

He finally raises his head and looks me in the eye, seeming completely distraught. "How can you take it? How can _anyone_ take it?"

I can't tell him about Cassius. I can't tell him that President Snow's youngest son rescues me from my terrible reality whenever he gets the chance, and that we actually love each other, against all odds- Gloss wouldn't understand, and even if he did, what would be the gain? I highly doubt he'll share my luck and find a nice Capitol girl who really cares about him.

So, with that in mind, I say "I just pretend it's all a bad dream."

That night, Gloss has more trouble falling asleep than usual; he doesn't even protest when I insist on kissing his forehead like we're children again.

* * *

"Cashmere, look at me."

There's no point in pretending I'm asleep- I turn around on the bed, so I can stare directly into Cassius's now nearly hair-free face.

It has been five years since I stepped into this room for the first time, and even though, unlike it, Cassius has changed a lot- his ears and nose have been slowly changing into their original shape, and the areas of smooth, human skin all over his body are becoming larger as the months go by-, the kindness in his eyes and that special look he always saves for our sporadic moments alone remain exactly the same.

And it kills me knowing I don't deserve it.

"What's wrong?" he asks softly, running his thumb- his human thumb- along my cheek. The claws are gone, but I still cringe every time I think about those nights when Cassius couldn't even move due to the excruciating pain, and the agonizing screams he let out once patches of burnt hair started falling off.

"The Games start next week," I say faintly. This is the cherry on top of the cake- I always get over attached to the tributes I mentor, especially when they remind me of myself. At least I'm from a Career district and they actually stand a chance- but I usually cry my eyes out for hours when they die. The exception was last year- I was too busy giving my support to Finnick as he struggled to get his Annie out of the arena to afford mourning over the loss of yet another tribute for too long.

But the Games also mean that Capitol men will be all over me- more than usual, anyway.

"I thought you weren't mentoring this year." Cassius smiles shyly, showing me his white, pointy teeth- he says he wants to keep them, since they're so useful for eating steak. "Or are you?"

I shake my head. "No, this year it's Gloss's turn."

"I can sponsor his tribute, if it makes you feel better."

I shake my head again. The way Cassius is always ready to give it his best or even sacrifice himself in order to help me or the people I love is absolutely crushing. "Thank you, but I'm sure he can handle it," I say shakily.

I'm not even lying- Gloss is a true sponsor-magnet, and he always manages to turn whoever he is coaching into a copy of him. He's also coping with his situation much better than I thought he would: even though he has his little crowd of admirers, most of the Capitol women prefer Finnick, so Gloss has plenty of time to spend back home- or, more often than not, roaming through Capitol streets in his expensive cars, singing at the top of his lungs to whatever he is listening to. But he seems to enjoy himself, so who am I to judge?

"Then what's the problem?" Cassius asks.

"Your father is going to send me to ten different men that week," I mutter, not daring to look him in the eye.

Cassius clenches his fists. "_Ten_?" he snarls. "I'm going to kill him!"

"What would be the point?" I ask desperately. I _need_ him to understand. "It won't change anything. It won't change what I am."

"Cashmere, don't-"

"Look at me!" I cry. "Why can't you see it? I'm nothing more than a trophy." I cover my face with my hands and fight back the burning sensation in my throat. "I don't even know why you want to look _normal_. Good looks have brought me nothing but trouble."

Cassius grabs my wrists, gently pulling my hands away from my face. "Stop that," he whispers. "You're _so _much more than you what you look like, Cashmere. You said it yourself."

"Don't you know what they call me?" I insist, closing my eyes. "_Easy Cash_. I've slept with so many men that I lost count, and their wives shoot me dirty looks every time I go outside. And more than once I've paralyzed with the fear of being pregnant!"

"None of that is your fault!" he exclaims, looking angrier than I've ever seen him. "It's all _my father's_ fault."

Finally, I break down crying. "I can't take it anymore, Cas," I sob.

Cassius wraps one arm around me, stroking my hair with his free hand. "I know," he says soothingly. "But everything will be alright. I promise."

* * *

About a month after my breakdown, I'm summoned to the president's mansion once again; it seems President Snow still doesn't suspect anything of my relationship with Cassius, or he simply doesn't care, as long as his son leaves him alone.

This time I'm supposed to stay for four weeks, but not even that cheers me up- I still can't take the way Cassius chose to ignore my "affairs" off my mind, and that only adds to the terrible feeling that I don't deserve him.

We follow our usual routine- we take long walks in the garden, go to the library, take care of his roses and spend our nights together-, but the whole time Cassius seems thoughtful and somewhat distant, and I'm terrified that he's finally realized he's too good for me.

_Maybe it's for the best._

One day he sends me a note, telling me to meet him at the library. I immediately leave my room, and I don't hesitate until I reach the doors I have crossed so many times before. Deciding I will face Cassius's rejection with my head held up high, I step into the library.

It's a sunny day outside, so the long curtains have been pulled open, revealing the garden in all of its glory. Even the furniture seems to irradiate with the light that comes in and covers everything with a soft glow. Cassius is at the center of the room, his hair gleaming as much as the golden book titles on the bindings, as he fiddles with something he's keeping in his hand. He hides it as soon as he sees me come in.

Cassius strides towards me and takes my hand, brushing his lips against it. My heart leaps violently- _what does he want?_

"I have news," he says in a low voice.

"Oh?" I try to hide my curiosity, but to no avail. "What news?"

"I have been thinking," Cassius replies carefully, never letting go of my hand. "And I've come to a decision."

"About what?"

"About my father." I detect a dangerous glint in his eyes, one that is only there when he talks about the man that holds him captive. "I decided I need to end this, once and for all." I shoot him a panicked look, still not understanding him. "I'm going to end all of it," he explains. "Not just my imprisonment, but also what he's forcing you to do. Especially that."

"You're going to confront him?" I practically shriek. "Are you mad?"

"It's the only way," Cassius answers calmly.

"He'll never agree to it," I say in a tone of exasperation. "Maybe he'll let you out, but I'm one of his main sources of profit. He won't let me go."

"He will have to, once I tell him of my intentions." Cassius smirks slightly, and I find myself more curious and confused than ever.

"Intentions? What inten-"

My voice trails off mid-sentence, because Cassius- who is still holding my hand- chooses that moment to get down on one knee.

_Oh my God._

"I would have gone mad in this place if it wasn't for you," he says solemnly, holding out a delicately carved ring that I recognize as one of my mother's designs. "Cashmere Mabel, will you marry me?"

I can feel my heart pounding in my ears. He's not breaking up with me- he's proposing.

This is pure madness. We can't do it. Or can we? Are there any laws concerning marriage between a Capitol citizen and a person from one of the districts? Wouldn't that bother those crazy fans who say they want to marry Finnick? I need to look it up.

I must have zoned out, because next thing I know Cassius is squeezing my hand. "Cashmere?" he calls, looking worried. I widen my eyes at him, realizing I still haven't answered his question.

"Yes," I finally manage to croak. I clear my throat. "Yes," I repeat, more steadily, even though I'm bursting with happiness. "Of course I will marry you."

Cassius beams, and it's like he never went through plastic surgery or that awful treatment; he just slides the ring around my finger and gets to his feet, before seizing my waist and dragging me closer. I enjoy every second of the kiss he plants on my lips, because it has just dawned on me- if we manage to go through with this, we are free. We are_ both_ free.

"I will talk to my father tomorrow," Cassius says excitedly. "I'll tell him all about the engagement, and how I don't want to waste any more time. The sooner we get out of here, the better."

"What if he says no?" I ask.

"He won't," he assures me. "I have been a burden in his life for eleven years. I'm sure that if I guarantee him I'll just disappear and pretend that I've never existed, like I have been doing, he'll release us. We can start over, perhaps even live in District 1." He seems to think for a moment. "Although maybe it's better if I try and get you the Capitol citizenship, and that way we will prevent our children from being eligible to the Games. How does that sound?"

"It sounds wonderful," I reply, a bit dreamily; however, my tone is serious when I add "I'll go with you."

Cassius raises his eyebrows. "What?"

"Tomorrow I'll go with you," I explain. "We can confront your father together. There's no way I'm letting you go alone."

Cassius brushes his lips against my neck. "Thank you," he whispers.

* * *

**Hope you liked it :) What did you guys think?**


	3. Part III

**First of all, an apology- I was kind of in a hurry when I posted the last chapter, so I didn't get to thank richards25 and Luli Cullen, who took the time to review this story. So here it is- thank you so much, and also to everyone who read the first two chapters; I really hope you liked them.**

**I really hope you like this final chapter as well, even though... well, I don't want to spoil anything. I'll explain better in the end.**

**(btw, there will be some references to Water and Gold characters, but even if you haven't read the story you'll be able to understand everything. To anyone who's read it, however, I said I would reveal the reason behind Cashmere's dislike Marvel- and here it is)**

* * *

"Master Cassius?"

After all these years, Magnus hasn't become any less inconvenient- what in the world can be so important that leads him to knock on Cassius's door at seven in the morning?

"Master Cassius? Please open up."

"He won't go away until you get up and see what he wants," I whisper against Cassius's shoulder, still half-asleep.

"Old coot," he groans, as he runs his hand along my bare back, his breath moving the strands of hair that have fallen on my forehead. "Always interrupting my chess."

I open one of my eyes and look up at him amusingly. "Did you just compare me to a board game?"

"No," Cassius replies sheepishly, lowering his lips to my jaw. "I just called you my queen."

"That's better," I chuckle. "But I'm still not convinced."

"Maybe this will make you change your mind." Cassius's mouth drifts from my neck to my own lips, and I laugh at how he still can't help but tickle me.

"Master Cassius, this is urgent!"

"Oh my _God_!" Cassius whimpers, rolling on his back and putting his hands over his eyes. "Alright, just a second!" He gets up from the bed and fetches a pair of jeans from the floor, putting them on before walking towards the door.

I kneel on the bed, holding the sheets against my chest, in a failed attempt to hear what Magnus has to say- he only remains in the doorway for a minute, speaking quickly in a hushed voice before handing something to Cassius and disappearing towards his room.

I lay back on the pillows as soon as Cassius returns, looking grim. "What did he want?" I ask.

"It's for you," he replies gravely, holding out a piece of paper.

"For me?" I take the letter from his hand, suddenly feeling anxious, and run my eyes along Gloss's messy handwriting.

_Cammie_, he has written, _We need you to come home now. I know it will be hard to convince your host to let you go, but please try- Dad is really sick, and we don't know what with. He was fine just a week ago…_

I don't even finish reading before jumping from the bed and beginning to look frenetically for my clothes. "What did it say?" Cassius asks, sounding concerned.

"My father is sick," I mumble, as I put on my dress and shoes. "I… I need to go." I bury my face in my hands; just yesterday, just _a minute ago_, everything was going to turn out fine.

"Then go," Cassius whispers. "He needs you."

"But you need me too! Are you forgetting what we were supposed to do today?"

Cassius wraps his arms around me and leans his forehead against mine. "He needs you more. And I can take care of my father on my own."

"Promise me you won't talk to him alone," I say harshly.

Cassius smiles insecurely. "He might be a total asshole, but he's still my father. How bad could it be?"

I let out a sarcastic laugh. "He's been keeping you locked for eleven years. _Promise me_," I insist.

"Fine. I promise." Cassius kisses me quickly. "Now go. I will make sure your father gets the best treatment available."

I thank him with my eyes before turning around and darting through the door, only to find Magnus already waiting for me on the hall.

I still look behind one more time, unsure of where the chill I just felt down my spine came from.

* * *

My father is a strong man, so he manages to recover enough to complain about the soup I bring him twice a day in a week's time. However, he still looks a bit green, and when he's already out of danger, the doctor pulls me aside and reveals that my father has been poisoned.

"It was a small dose," he explains. "Not enough to kill him, but there's no doubt that someone wanted your father to get sick."

I'm so appalled by his words that I don't say anything, but I spend the following days wondering who would want to hurt my father; he's gone out to have dinner in the Capitol a few times in the past weeks, so any of the hosts, or even someone who wasn't there, could have done it. The obvious guess would be President Snow- but I haven't done anything wrong (at least that he knows of), so why would he bother?

I stop meditating over the matter as soon as I get another letter, this time from Cassius- he begs me to go back, since he has something really important to tell me. Without even stopping for a moment to think about how he never, in these five years we've known each other, has written me a letter, I get on the first train to the Capitol.

As usual, Magnus is in front of the train station, waiting to pick me up. The red convertible is still the same, but I'm surprised to see that this time he's wearing black- maybe red suits got out of style.

"Welcome back, Miss Mabel," he says in a tired voice, much different from the slightly arrogant and snobbish tone he always uses. I haven't been paying much attention to him lately- actually, I never did-, but now I notice he looks older.

Magnus drives me to the mansion without a word, and once we get there he doesn't lead me to Cassius's part of the house- instead, I follow him towards the greenhouse. I look at him inquiringly; I'm pretty sure I wasn't even supposed to know of its existence.

"He's waiting for you," Magnus informs me, before taking a handkerchief from his pocket and blowing his nose noisily. I almost let out a relieved sigh- if Cassius is tending his roses, then he's not in as much trouble as I thought he was.

"Allergies?" I ask sympathetically, when I see some tears forming in Magnus's eyes. He nods, before recomposing himself and leaving me with his signature bow.

I push the door open and step into the greenhouse; I haven't been here since that day Cassius gave me the rose- which I carefully pressed between the pages of a book, so I could keep it along with his picture-, but not a single day seems to have passed by the colorful blossoms and satiny petals. I can hear a persistent metallic noise coming from the back of the room, so I suppose Cassius is pruning some branches.

"Cassius?" I call. He doesn't answer, so I repeat louder, "Cassius? It's me." He remains silent, so I set off towards his favorite rosebush, where the sound is stronger. "Cassius?" I call again, this time more anxiously, as I speed up. Finally, I spot him with his back turned to me, crouched next to the rosebush I knew he'd be working on. "Oh, here you are," I say, relieved, as he begins to turn around. "For a moment, I thought-"

I freeze on my spot- it's not Cassius.

"It's good to see you again, Miss Mabel," President Snow says in a sickeningly sweet voice. "You arrived right on time- I wanted to have a word with you."

"About what?" I ask, in an equally sweet voice, even though I'm terrified.

He stares at me and smiles triumphantly- a bad sign. "It seems I underestimated you. Here I was, thinking you were just a pretty face…"

"People tend to do that," I cut off.

"… but you proved to be much more than that," he continues, apparently not hearing me. "Once again, I must say I'm impressed."

"Excuse me, but where's Cassius?" I ask. "He said he needed to talk to me…"

"Of course he did." President Snow's smile grows wider. "Let me ask you something, my dear- do you think I'm an idiot?"

I widen my eyes at him. "I beg your pardon?"

"I asked you if you think I am an idiot to the point of not keeping my own house under surveillance," he clarifies. "Especially while having such a… rebellious son, along with the presence of an outsider. No offense."

"It's alright," I assure him, a bit sarcastically.

"You can imagine my surprise," he goes on, "When I found out that not only he had developed feelings for you, but also that you returned those feelings!" I can feel myself turning pale, unconsciously touching the ring Cassius has given me- and I instantly regret doing so. "Oh," President Snow says, sounding delighted. "Of course I know about _that _too. You see, you might think I'm a terrible father, but I do care about my sons."

"Oh, really?" I ask defiantly, even though my world seems to be crumbling down. "And what does that mean to you?"

"It means," he says lightly, picking up a black rose. "That when I found out Cassius was planning on marrying you and taking off, I got worried. So I decided to invite him to dinner, taking the opportunity that you were out nursing your father, to discuss the matter with him."

I cover my mouth. "What did he say?"I ask faintly.

"At first he panicked, when I told him I knew about everything. But when he saw I wasn't angry, he revealed all the details of his plan. He said he really loved you, and that he was willing to give up all his money to marry you; I confess it melted my heart." President Snow takes his hand to the left side of his chest, marking his words. "I gave him my blessing. But then…" His shoulders drop, and suddenly I sense something's _very_ wrong.

"But then what? _Where is he_?" I demand to know again, unable to hide a note of hysteria.

"A terrible, terrible mistake." President Snow shakes his head, and if I didn't know better, I'd say he looks genuinely sad. "I'm sure the poison was meant for me. If only I had taken the first bite…"

_No. No, no, no. Please._

"Poison?" I cry, losing my composure. "Is he alright? Please tell me where he is!"

"My dear child," President Snow says with feigned sympathy. "I really tried my best to save him… but my son succumbed less than five minutes after he started eating."

My ears are suddenly filled with a sharp whistle, instantly drowned by a piercing scream- that I realize is coming from me. My chest has been torn open and I'm bleeding on the ground, praying for my own death…

"NO!" I shriek, bursting into tears. "It's not true! He can't be dead!"

"I'm afraid it is true." Through my tears, I can see that President Snow is smiling again.

"I should have stayed with him," I sob. "We were going to announce our engagement together…"

"I know that. How unfortunate, that your father had to fall ill right now."

His words cut like a knife, and suddenly I'm furious; I look at the president with my eyes full of hatred and tears. "You did this!" I accuse, so loud that the glass walls could have shattered.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he says lightly, twisting the black rose in his fingers. "I understand that you are distraught…"

"Oh my God, he was your _son_!" I shriek.

"Was he?" President Snow is now openly beaming. "There is no proof of his existence. Only you and Magnus knew about him, and I'm sure you will keep your mouth shut."

"_Why_? Why did you do it?"

"He wanted to marry you," he replies simply. "I couldn't have him leaving this house, no matter what the circumstances- especially to marry someone of your condition."

"Why didn't you kill me instead?" I whimper. "I'm far less precious."

"Allow me to disagree- while Cassius was no more than a burden, you are actually quite valuable. And who do you think I could make disappear more easily? A man who hasn't been seen by anyone for the past eleven years, and that everyone already thought dead, or a woman that, along with her brother and family, is a celebrity?" I shoot him an incredulous look, and he goes on. "My son was the root for many of my problems… so I uprooted him." He drops the black rose next to me, and begins to walk towards the exit. "Have a nice day, Miss Mabel."

Now that he's moved away, I can see that the plat where once rested Cassius's favorite rosebush has been dug up, and is now nothing more than a pile of dirt.

_I uprooted him._

I crawl to the small plat and let myself fall on the ground, resolved to cry until I pass out.

"You can take her now, Magnus," I hear President Snow order for the second time in my life.

* * *

From my chair, I see the thousands of children lining up, eager to volunteer, just like I was eight years ago. Little do they know what it is really like. They know _nothing_- nothing about pain, or loss, or death.

I smile mechanically when the mayor mentions my name while reading the list of past victors, followed by Gloss's. He's sitting right next to me, now a cheerful young man of twenty-two, but still my little brother.

Gloss still doesn't know what happened three years ago that has caused me to become so bitter, and even now, as we wait for the tributes of the 74th Hunger Games to be selected, he shoots me concerned looks. I just feel so _hollow_, as I nervously twist my old engagement ring and try to look like the balanced, warm-hearted mentor I'm known for being.

"Ladies first!" My eyes drift from the random point I had been staring at, so I can see Marcus diving his hand in one of the glass bowls. "Glimmer Adams!" he calls.

"Holy shit Cammie, she looks just like you!" Gloss whispers, widening his eyes.

"Then stop drooling," I whisper back, already pitying Glimmer- if this is my brother's reaction, then the Capitol _will_ eat her alive. "You're being kind of creepy."

"Oh, wait- her eyes are green," he points out.

"You're gross," I hiss, rolling my eyes; Marcus is now unfolding the boy tribute's slip of paper.

"Flint Wyckoff!" The crowd explodes into thunderous applause, as a black-haired boy happily hops onstage and takes Marcus's microphone; next to me, Gloss bursts out laughing.

"Am I missing out on something?" I ask him.

"That kid is not going anywhere," he informs me, when he manages to stop laughing. He's right: Flint is now- after greeting everyone in a rather eccentric way- announcing that one of his friends is volunteering. "This should be fun," Gloss says, leaning back on his chair.

I follow his gaze and freeze when I spot the sea-green eyes, the dark blonde hair and the cocky smirk- the boy that has just joined Flint looks _exactly_ like the one in the faded photo I have been keeping in my pocket for the past three years.

"Cammie? What's wrong?" Gloss knits his eyebrows and looks at me with concern.

"Nothing," I reply, shaking my head. For a moment, I see what Cassius might have looked like, had he been free; but then the boy- Marvel- high-fives his friend, and I hear the arrogance in his voice. While Cassius longed for a little bit of freedom, this boy is throwing his away like it's nothing.

I hate him already.

* * *

I was right about him- Marvel _never_ shuts up about himself, and soon I realize that he's one of those boys who have no shame on seducing a girl before the Games, just for fun.

"Be careful with him," I tell Glimmer, right after the opening ceremonies. "Don't let him get too close." I know she will listen to my advice- beneath that glamorous appearance, she's like me- a smart girl fighting against the labels that have been placed all over her.

_Easy Cash._

"_As if_," she says, rolling her green eyes. "If he tried landing one finger on me, I would break it. But I don't think I'm his type, anyway. He's more into brunettes."

I cross my arms. "What do you mean?"

"He was just undressing poor, tiny District 4 with his eyes," Glimmer informs me. "It was kind of sad, actually."

Finnick's "little sister". Great.

I pinch the bridge of my nose and let out a frustrated sigh. "I'm going to ask you a favor," I say. Glimmer blinks, inviting me to go on. "Please make sure he stays away from her. I know that should be Gloss's job, but knowing my brother, he would probably offer him a glass of wine to celebrate."

I don't tell Glimmer this, but I'm actually trying to assure that the other girl doesn't get more hurt than she's already set to- why bring more pain to the Games and add a broken heart to the injuries she will probably suffer?

Glimmer smiles in a somewhat evil way. "Don't worry. I'll go talk to him."

Perhaps Gloss is right. I do tend to get too involved.

* * *

"I'm telling you Marvel's been sneaking out!" I insist. "Just last night, I stayed up late to finish my book…"

"Christ!" Gloss cries, causing me to jump on my seat. He's _never_ yelled at me. "Why are you so obsessed with that kid? Just let him have some freedom and mind your own business!"

"You're his mentor," I point out hurtfully. "You're supposed to help him-"

"That's right," he cuts off. "_I'm_ his mentor. Not you. I know you've always had problems staying out of other people's lives, but ever since the day Dad got sick you got worse! What the heck happened?"

I burst into tears. I can't tell him- I can't tell anyone! To everyone, it's as if Cassius never existed- sometimes, even I start doubting it, until I see my ring-, and who would believe me if I told them President Snow poisoned his own son?

I loved him, and now my heart is hopelessly empty just like the little plat that used to hold a rosebush that reminded him of me. But what hurts the most is that I never got to say goodbye.

"I just don't want them to get hurt!" I sob incoherently. I don't even know who I am referring to- Glimmer? The girl Finnick is desperately trying to protect? _Me_? "I don't want anyone to get hurt!"

Gloss takes my hand and gives me a look that leaves no doubt that he's worried about my sanity. "I'm sorry, Cammie," he says softly. "But someone will get hurt. And there's nothing you can do about it."

* * *

Unfortunately, Gloss is right.

Everything goes relatively well for the first days, even though this year's Career pack has lost a member- the thirteen-year-old boy from Finnick's district- and has decided to replace him with Peeta, the boy from Twelve. It was Marvel's idea, and I want to scream at his stupidity, since the boy is obviously tricking them, and not leading them to the Girl on Fire.

At least Finnick agrees with me.

"Listen to her!" he yells at the screen in the Games Headquarters, when Serena- the girl he says he loves like a little sister- tells Marvel that she doesn't trust Peeta. "God, could he be any blinder?" he blurts out, crashing on his chair.

However, on the third day the Gamemakers set half of the arena on fire, and we are forced to watch the Careers run for their lives, something that usually doesn't happen; Marvel manages to somewhat redeem himself in Finnick's- and mine, I admit it- eyes when he goes back for Serena despite being surrounded by flames, assuring that all six of them escape unharmed.

On the fourth night, I leave Gloss and Finnick with a 'Goodnight'- they have decided to stay up all night playing poker and keeping an eye on the screen, now that the Careers have trapped Katniss Everdeen in a tree.

The sun has barely come up when I'm shaken awake by Gloss, which can only mean one thing.

Someone died.

When I get there, the Headquarters are empty, with the exception of Finnick- he's sitting on a chair, covering his face with his hands, and it strikes me just how much he reminds me of Gloss.

"What happened?" I ask worriedly. "Who was it?"

Finnick just points at the screen in response, where they're showing the grotesquely swollen body of not one, but two girls- Glimmer and Serena.

I end up crying for both of them.

From that moment on, I have no choice but to help Gloss gather sponsors for Marvel- who has gotten as insane as I think I am, and apparently for the same reasons-, the only District 1 tribute left; at least the boy has the good sense to leave the tributes from District 2 and I'm finally allowed to stop working with Brutus, who is even less chivalrous than Capitol men, and looks at me like I'm a piece of meat.

The next day, Marvel is shot in the neck, and the sight of life fading from his green eyes is almost too much for me to handle. "Cassius!" I nearly cry out loud, but I manage to restrain myself in the last moment.

I finally realize I will _never_ be able to pull myself together when the Gamemakers unleash the mutts. As soon as those wolfs with human eyes appear on the screen, chasing their prey on their hind legs and holding none of the humanity Cassius emanated, I'm not able to repress a loud, nervous laughter.

I'm aware that President Snow can drive the Gamemakers to do whatever he wants.

After eight years, he's finally managed to break me beyond salvation.

* * *

"Cashmere Mabel!" Marcus calls, his voice cracking a little.

How strange. Whenever I thought about the Games, when I was younger, I would see myself volunteering- which I did. And I won. I never thought my name would be snatched from that glass ball.

But it just was.

President Snow seems to consider I haven't suffered enough- but he's wrong if he thinks this affects me. I have nothing left to live for. I'm empty insi-

"Gloss Mabel!"

I close my eyes. _Not again. Please, not again_. My parents won't be able to bear it. And neither will I.

Gloss climbs to the stage with his head held up high, even though he knows he's doomed- we're all doomed.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I give you- the tributes of the 75th annual Hunger Games!"

Shaking my baby brother's hand feels like being back in the greenhouse, staring at that empty plat.

* * *

"So, uh… What is it like in District 1? How do you… spend your time?" Katniss asks, a bit insecurely.

I shoot the grey-eyed girl an incredulous look. Is this really the same person half of the other tributes are willing to risk their lives for? The same person who dropped a tracker-jacker nest on Glimmer and shot an arrow through Marvel's neck?

"We don't have much free time," Gloss replies for me, a bit coldly. "What about you?"

"Well, I… I design clothes," Katniss replies faintly.

"How marvelous," I say a bit sarcastically, definitely ending the conversation. I don't want this girl for an ally.

* * *

Just when I thought I couldn't hate the Capitol any more, Zama- my stylist- had to put me in another hot pink dress- except this one is even more sparkly and puffy than the last one. It seems she can't realize I'm not an eighteen-year-old girl anymore, but a twenty-seven year old woman. My chest is practically bursting from it- which is probably the point.

Suddenly, the pre-interview buzzing around us ceases. I turn around and my eyes fall upon Katniss's dress- a _wedding_ dress.

I feel myself flushing with something I can't identify- I don't know if I feel angry, jealous, or simply about to start crying again. Maybe a mix of the three-, and I begin twisting my ring again, only to realize it isn't there anymore. We are only allowed one token, so I brought one of my mother's lockets, with Cassius's picture and a petal of the rose he gave me inside it.

"I can't believe Cinna put you in that thing," Finnick says incredulously.

"He didn't have any choice," Katniss replies. "President Snow made him."

The room starts swinging before my eyes, and I can feel that nervous, insane laughter going up my throat again. President Snow, planning a wedding!

"Well, you look ridiculous!" I spit, before I can help myself. Then I grab Gloss's hand and pull him away from the other tributes, before I burst into tears in front of them.

"Cammie, _not again_," he says hurtfully, as I sob against his shoulder. "Here." He hands me his handkerchief, but I refuse it.

"No." I wipe my nose with the back of my hand. "This is just what I need."

I do nothing to hide my tears when the music starts playing and the tributes are led to the stage, where a lavender-haired Caesar Flickerman awaits us. Thank goodness I'm the first.

"I must confess, my dear, that I never expected to interview you like this again," Caesar says, sounding heartbroken.

"Neither did I, Caesar," I sniff.

"Now, now," he says soothingly. "A beautiful woman like yourself, crying like this! I can't bear it to watch it."

"It's just," I begin dramatically, wiping mascara from my cheeks. "I can't stop crying… Every time I think about what these people might be feeling, with the loss of twenty-three victors, I just…" My voice trails off and I bury my face in my hands, this time to hide that I'm smiling.

This is my act of rebellion.

This is for you, Cassius.

* * *

The roof is actually a nice place. Incredible how I never thought about coming up here before.

"Hello, Finnick." I have known him long enough to recognize his steps.

He stops next to me. "You're not joining us tomorrow, are you?" he asks, cutting right to the point.

I shake my head, without tearing my gaze away from the Capitol streets below. "No."

"I just thought… Your interview. And your brother's." Finnick casts me a hopeful glance. "Come with us! Don't you want to bring Snow down?"

I let out a humorless laughter. "Do you really think you can bring Snow down just by saving the little Mockingjay on Fire?" I turn to him. "You have no idea what he's capable of. You don't know what he's done."

Finnick pouts, suddenly looking like the sixteen-year-old boy I once knew, and that enjoyed playing sugar-poker with my brother. "She's our only hope of _changing _things around here."

"What if I don't want to change things around here?" I ask. "What if the only thing I want is to get my brother home safely, so that my parents don't have to lose both their children?"

He flinches. "What about you?"

"Me?" I chuckle. "I have nothing left. Snow took everything from me. I _am_ going to die in that arena, Finnick."

"You could still help us. I know you can't stand Brutus and Enobaria."

"I can't protect Gloss and the _star-crossed_ _lovers_ at the same time." The words come out more venomous than I intended them to.

"Why do you hate Katniss so much?" he asks with curiosity.

"I don't hate her." I turn to the streets again. "But, you know… She killed Glimmer and Marvel. Why _don't_ you hate her? She dropped a tracker-jacker nest on that girl you cared so deeply about."

Finnick's shoulders drop. "She had no choice, you know that. It's kill or be killed. Besides," I can feel his gaze burning on the side of my head. "If Serena had survived, she would have been sold, just like us, and that would ruin her. I'm not saying it was a good thing-"

"Katniss still killed her," I cut off, never looking him in the eye.

"Fine, have it your way," Finnick blurts out, seemingly giving up. "Can I at least warn her not to trust you?"

"Be my guest," I say tonelessly.

"Okay, so… Goodbye, Four-eyes," he says hurtfully, addressing me by the nickname he got me the year we met. I still like it better than Easy Cash.

"Goodbye, Finnick," I reply, even though I' pretty sure he's already gone.

* * *

"Come on, don't you want to have some fun while we still have the chance?"

"Go away," I hiss. "I'm trying to get some sleep."

"I know you want it," Brutus purrs, his stinky breath dangerously close to my face, as he tries to dive his hand inside my suit. "Easy Cash never says no…"

Brutus was never forced to sell his body; he doesn't have any family or friends, so they couldn't blackmail him. Not that they would want it, anyway- he's way too ugly for that. And I'm not talking about the outside... much.

"I said GO AWAY!" I shout, kicking him in the groin as hard as I can.

"You fucking bitch!" he cries, bending over in agony. I tilt my head back and laugh, and he tries to reach for my throat. I just stare at him defiantly as his fingers close around my locket's chain, but the moment he starts squeezing, he's pulled back by Gloss.

"If you touch my sister again," he snarls, holding a knife against Brutus's cheek, "I'll slice your face in half."

Brutus grins; it doesn't matter that Gloss is younger than him, or how skilled he is with that knife. Brutus is still bigger and stronger. "We'll see about that, Lip Gloss."

"Shut the fuck up, I'm trying to sleep!" Enobaria shouts from wherever she's lying.

God, I hate District 2.

* * *

I'm jolted awake by screams.

I could recognize them anywhere- they bring back memories of burned hair and cold compresses, of useless soothing words and stories read out loud trying to drown them out.

Before I know it, I'm bolting towards the jungle, my heartbeat in my throat.

"Cassius!" I cry, frenetically turning my head around. "Cassius!"

No- not even President Snow can be devious to the point of having faked his son's death so he could toss him in the arena just to see how I react. And yet…

Then, Cassius's agonizing screams are joined by another man's cries of pain, and I realize I left Gloss alone with Brutus and Enobaria. I turn around, intended on returning to our camping site before they make his cannon sound, but Cassius keeps screaming behind me, and suddenly I don't know which way to go.

I drop on my knees and cover my ears, my own screams multiplied a thousand times, adding to the horrifying symphony going on over my head. I stay like that until I suddenly feel someone grabbing my wrists.

"Cammie, it's alright! I'm here." I look up and find my brother's pale face inches away from mine. "They're just jabberjays," he says shakily, pointing at the trees, where the awful birds have fallen silent.

"I thought they were killing you," I whisper, so that Brutus and Enobaria- who are standing behind him with their eyebrows furrowed- can't hear me.

"They weren't." Gloss seems to have recomposed himself, and cocks an eyebrow. "Who the hell is Cassius, by the way?"

"No one," I mumble, gluing my eyes to the ground.

"Can't you see your sister has gone batshit, Lip Gloss?" Enobaria interrupts, sounding disgusted. "We could very well have joined Annie Cresta. It would be the same."

* * *

_Hickory, dickory, dock,_

_The mouse ran up the clock._

Poor Wiress won't even see us coming.

_The clock struck one,_

"I'll go," Gloss says with a grin, beginning to run away from the safety of our side of the Cornucopia and towards her before any of us has time to even think of a plan.

_The mouse ran down,_

"Gloss, wait!" I hiss, but he's already too far away, with his knife held out. Without hesitating, I run after him.

_Hickory, dickory, dock._

One time, our mother sent me and Gloss to the shop near the square so we could get groceries. I was ten, he was six, and he had just entered the Training Club. So Gloss was a tad bit overexcited, and as he clung to my hand, he told me how much fun he had been having with his pals, throwing their little knives at a target. But soon he forgot about them, when he saw a stray dog, looking at him on the other side of the road. "Puppy!" he cried, freeing himself from my hand and running towards his new friend- he didn't even see the car coming. Luckily, my brother didn't get hurt, apart from a scraped knee.

But Gloss still never learned to look both sides before crossing the street.

He silences the woman with one sharp move of his knife, just as I'm getting near him. A triumphant smile has just spread across his face when suddenly Katniss turns around.

"Gloss!" I cry in horror, when I see the tip of her arrow penetrating his temple. He dies before he reaches the ground, his baby-blue eyes widened in a permanent look of surprise.

_I failed._

I try to reach for my sword, but suddenly the blade of an axe buries itself in my chest- shattering my precious locket, the only thing I really had left, the only thing I had to remind me of my family and the boy I used to love so many years ago.

_Once upon a time_, that's how every story book begins. _Once upon a time, there was a princess who fell in love with a prince._

My head hits the sand and everything goes black.

_Once upon a time._

* * *

**Okay, so... I'm not sure if that was what you were expecting, or if you liked this ending.**

**Once again, I don't want to spoil anything- but I need you to remember that all my stories are connected. A little bit like Marvel movies, you see? With cameos from upcoming characters and such. So stay tuned for the Water and Gold sequel (coming out as soon as I finish it...) :p**

**Thanks for reading!**


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